STORMY SKIES: A Tribute to 'Pedestal' by DigitalSkitty
by lainashea
Summary: Vicious rainstorms rage across Hoenn, mysterious weather phenomena at an all time high. Trainer-to-be Hadlee is caught in a mudslide and knocked unconscious-missing Leaving Day when the rest of her graduate class leaves to begin their Pokemon Journeys. Meanwhile, guilt-ridden classmate Clayton embarks without her and learns how harsh the world can be. A dark, unconventional epic.
1. Chapter 1 - The Storm

**_Hi there Reader. Some quick notes for you:_**

_This story was written after I read the epic, 160-chapter long Pokémon fanfic "Pedestal" by DigitalSkitty (man what an adventure) and realized I still craved more._

_Therefore, while STORMY SKIES is its own independent tale set in Hoenn, it may make nods to the events of Pedestal, and can be assumed to happen in the same story universe (yes this has been agreed to by DigitalSkitty). It will not affect your reading of this story, however, if you have not read Pedestal._

_As one of my favorite authors said: "Nothing will be safe from me in this story." It will be dark, it will be angsty, and it will be violent (not over the top, but realistic just the same). But stick with me, readers, and it will all be worth it..._

_Please enjoy STORMY SKIES.~ _

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 1 – THE STORM <strong>[Hadlee]

"What?" I shouted through the roaring rain, tugging the wet hoodie tighter around my face. "I can't—no, I can't hear you! Clayton!" I wildly motioned with my free hand, struggling to see through the wall of water as thunder rumbled loudly around us. _"Clayton!"_

In the three weeks since I'd moved to Littleroot, I'd seen more storms than the rest of my life in Johto combined. According to the news, the whole month had been filled with an unprecedented number of weather phenomena all throughout Southern Hoenn...with no sign of letting up. That bode horribly unwell for Leaving Day, a short two days from now.

Back home the event would have been postponed for the elements indefinitely. But here, our unshakeably perky teacher Mr. Barren had made it clear that 'even a volcanic eruption can't stop trainers from starting their journeys!' Certainly nothing could stop his good attitude, a trait I wasn't sure if I'd miss when we all left with our new starters. Even today, when a freak flash flood had cut our last graduation field trip short, he'd kept in high spirits. I guess that's why he and his Ludicolo went so well together.

I shivered. Clayton and I had gotten separated from the class group...his love of hard-to-find grass Pokémon and my adventurous streak had made for a serious tendency to wander off. I think we both regretted that now.

"Hold on!" I yelled, blinking back little muddy droplets as they whooshed up into my face. I was sure he was yelling something, but the wind buffeted too fiercely through the trees to hear. If only I could lip read!

"Just—I'll come to you!" I started forward, squelching through the undergrowth toward his neon yellow wind jacket.

Suddenly my foot caught a rock and I tumbled to the ground, hands slapping sharply into the mud. My palms seared with pain, stuck all over with pine needles and pebbles, wetness seeping through my jeans. I gritted my teeth and held back a silent scream. This weather was _not_ for me. I would never have the coordination for it.

Clayton pulled me up, steadying us against a tree.

"We're going the wrong way! The class went over there! Back down to Route 101!" He yelled, inches from my ear, pointing through the trees. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah!" I shouted back, pushing away thoughts of my ankle, which was beginning to throb.

"Let's go! Stay with me!" He grabbed my wrist, leading me through the trees.

We hiked down the mountain carefully, rainwater rushing down the steep ground around us. Little troughs began to form in the mud like mini-rivers, sure-footing out of the question. I bit my lip and refocused on the task at hand: pushing through my limp. It didn't take a Mt. Moon professor to see how dangerous this was getting.

My eyes were on the ground when I heard it.

I startled and looked up—was that the wind? It sounded different. Something was off. Clayton stopped, feeling me tug against him.

"What is it?" he yelled. I held up a finger so I could listen. _And there it was again._

A high-pitched scream of wind—_no_—a Pokémon! A Pokémon was shrieking!

I swiveled around toward the noise, searching for movement, and saw a jumbled ball of legs thrashing high above us. It was caught in the flood, sliding down the mountain too fast to handle.

I gasped and started forward, eyes tracing its path, desperately estimating if I could catch the animal downstream. Yes: if only I could make it there fast enough.

Adrenaline took over. I ran, ankle fiercely stinging as I slipped over wet leaves and rocks, glancing upward when I could to keep track of the Pokémon. It clawed outward blindly with tiny paws, unable to grab hold of anything as the water dragged it quickly down. I forced myself to climb faster, almost there, holding out my hands as I reached where its stream would lead and—_fwump! _The lump fell straight into my arms and wriggled around, terrified.

I lifted it from the water with effort, trying to be gentle when it abruptly _leaped onto my chest. _I squealed and flailed backward, feeling it claw its way up the fabric to my shoulder and slip inside the space between my hood and my neck. Its wet fur slid around against my skin, burrowing...until it finally stopped moving.

I stood stark still for a few seconds, sure it would whip around and bite my cheek...but finally relaxed when it only trembled. I could almost laugh; it wasn't going for my jugular. It just needed a hidey-hole. I held a hand nearby to stabilize it, wincing as its nails dug into my skin.

We would need to take it to Clayton's father for a check-up on the way back. Bones could be broken, water could be in its lungs...I turned on a heel to tell him so, but instead yelped as my foot glided straight out from under me. My shoulder slammed into the ground, air knocked from my chest and I wheezed, pain everywhere. My head spun, dizzily perceiving movement as I realized with horror: my body was starting to slide down the mountain. Flood water was tugging me down with gravity.

I coughed for air, frantically reaching out toward trees but the leaves slipped right out of my hands, too wet for traction as I slid past. I blindly tossed the Pokémon toward Clayton, hoping he could save it as my weight yanked me down faster _and faster._

I struggled to look below me, a steep ledge rocketing closer as a new lurch of speed sent me tumbling forward, rolling headfirst, falling until—**black**.

-.-.-

I awoke in a bed. I wasn't alarmed or confused...just calm. I felt nothing for a moment and stared at the ceiling, trying to pick out patterns in the textured finish. But my eyes struggled, shadows swimming around and spinning every time I tried to focus. Nausea began to pull at my stomach. It was just too dark to see right.

Then a thought crossed me: this was not my ceiling. I was in an unfamiliar place. My mind moved slowly, trying to understand the concept, slogged down by something I couldn't quite put a finger on. I thought harder, sorting through the facts.

It felt like night time...but wasn't it just morning a moment ago? Whose bed was I lying in? How had I gotten here and why could I not recall coming? My mind went in circles, a gradual, building shock underlining it all to jump start my mind. Emotions came back with a blunt kick:_ panic._

_Something horrible has happened._

The last thing I remembered was completing my final essay for Mr. Barren, happy that there was no schoolwork left before graduation. Just the final field trip, graduation party, starter ceremony, and Leaving Day. No, no, something before that..._the field trip. _Something about the field trip. Rain. Fear. Pain.

I felt like I had teleported. I vividly remembered standing in the downpour just minutes ago, half-listening to a lecture about Wurmple colonies while plotting how to slip away from the class with Clayton. But no, that was hours ago. Was it? _What came after?_

I then remembered that I could move. I started with my neck, anxiety growing as I found it almost immobile with stiffness. It took intense effort to move my limbs. They felt strangely disassociated with my body: I could _see_ my leg bending upward but it felt numb, unwilling. I saw separate movement on the bed nearby and looked over to investigate.

A tiny Pokémon stared back at me, claws digging into the sheets, startled at my gaze. Round glossy auburn eyes, a furry caramel face with a black mask over the cheeks, little wet nose and scraggly mouth...the Zigzagoon pup held its fluffy tail straight, warily examining me. I stared back, vaguely recognizing it from our Local Pokémon quiz. It seemed much more fragile and harmless in person. Its fur coloring, however was...strange. Lighter than it should be.

For a moment I relaxed, watching it.

The animal carefully lifted a wide paw, quivering slightly in the strained silence, and placed it closer to me. Then another...and another, inching nearer, snout twitching. It padded across the sheets to my face, leaning up until it lightly booped my chin with its nose. I giggled, only to hear the sound come out as a raspy cough, and immediately set into a coughing fit. My throat was so dry. My mouth tasted horrible.

I hacked, moving to cover my mouth only to feel that I had on an oxygen apparatus. I pulled it off my face, taking in for the first time my surroundings. A half deflated IV bag hung nearby, tubes connecting to my inner arm, a steady soft beep emanating from machines at my bedside.

Adrenaline suddenly screamed through my veins: _I was in a hospital!_

I pushed myself to a sitting position, ignoring the sudden dizziness, and felt around for the 'Nurse' button. I clicked it over and over, heartbeat rising. My arms shook, straining under the weight of holding my torso up.

"Nurse," I coughed out, meekly. "Nurse!" I squeaked higher, suddenly bursting into tears. It felt good to cry, releasing a pent up pressure in my chest I hadn't realized had built to a breaking point. The Zigzagoon whined and stood to place a paw on my chest, and I weakly scooped it under one arm, weeping.

Mud. Its fur was muddy.

I gasped in between sobs and wiped my eyes, blearily looking down at it. _Mud..._

...Mudslide.

It all came back in a stinging blur.

"Nurse!" I screamed.

* * *

><p><em>Note: There are two main characters in this story that we will jump between: Hadlee and Clayton (no it is not a love story), and both will go on long Pokémon Journeys soon enough. Their timelines are outlined very specifically, so not a second will be wasted as we get into the swing of things with these characters!<em>

_See you at Chapter 2._


	2. Chapter 2 - Awake

**CHAPTER 2 - AWAKE **[Hadlee]

It was a whirlwind of commotion once the nurse found me awake. The lights were turned on, burning my eyes, but I could hear a second nurse and doctor rush in, hushed tones trying to comfort me. My mind refused to comprehend it all as the tests began.

Six days. I had been unconscious for _six days._

I had missed graduation and Leaving Day. I hadn't gotten a starter. My class and friends all left town without me. I couldn't help but feel terribly bitter at everyone. My whole life, building to that point...and I missed it all.

I also discovered a cast on my dominant arm, and at least three stitched spots on my body I didn't even want to look at or deal with yet.

I helplessly resorted to crying and clinging to the Zigzagoon, whom thankfully no one made any effort to remove, though free-roaming Pokémon were generally frowned upon in a hospital setting. I could only imagine how pathetic I must've looked to merit such special treatment.

Once my vitals were apparently stable enough and I passed some rudimentary mental tests, the room calmed and I was once again left with a single nurse, who bustled around the room adjusting things. She had clearly been assigned to keep me awake and talking, as her constant attempts at conversation reinforced, but I really didn't feel like cooperating. However, she was relentless.

"We couldn't get her to leave your side y'know," she said loudly, motioning to the Pokémon. I tried to calm my breathing to listen, fixated on running my fingers through its bristly tail.

"You had to be taken in together. She's very protective—wouldn't let anyone touch you at first, until we caught her. She bit three nurses," She laughed.

"Caught?" I croaked out.

"Oh! Yes. This is yours," she offered, coming over to pull a pokéball from her apron and drop it into my free hand. "You have to sync it to your trainer card later of course, but, for all intents and purposes you can consider her yours. We waived the associated fees as it's such a...unique situation."

I rolled the red and white ball around in my fingers. Was this supposed to be my first Pokémon? I hadn't even gotten to catch it myself. Heck, it wasn't even my pokéball to begin with.

I was suddenly sick to my stomach, thinking of all the other things I hadn't been able to do either. I quickly handed the ball back to her. It wasn't mine; it was a lie. She fumbled with it for a moment, taken aback, before deciding to put it on a nearby chair.

"I never got a Trainer card," I informed, bitterly. "I missed graduation. I'm not a trainer."

Failing a class or missing graduation meant at least another three months before I could test again and get certified. She had to know that. Pretending otherwise was cruel of her, really.

I felt something soft brush past me, to find the Zigzagoon crawling over to the edge of the bed to snuffle around the chair, making sure it was indeed her pokéball. She tried to pick it up, clicking it around against her teeth, but it was too big. I lightly reached over to pull her back and she startled, but then willingly came over to plop down into my arms again.

It was easy to be resentful about the Trainer situation, I realized, but it was going to be hard to reject something as cute and warm as a real-life Pokémon. Almost on cue, the animal turned to start up at me, scooting closer to lay its head on my chest and begin sniffing idly at my chin.

The closer she got, though, the more I smelled the mud on her fur. I turned away.

"How is she now? Like health-wise?" I asked. Releasing a healthy Pokémon would be easier on my conscious. She simply wasn't mine. I had to remember that.

"Zig!" the Pokémon barked softly on my chest. I gave it a little pat to shush it.

"That's right," the nurse cooed, reaching out to pet it. It suddenly stiffened and snarled viciously and she retracted her hand, horrified. I had to laugh when it then turned back to me, docile as ever. It definitely had a feisty trait of some kind.

I was also definitely doped up on medication to find any of this amusing.

"Well she's clearly fine now," the nurse stated bitterly, before regaining composure. "She was in rough shape before, yes, but once we got her to accept treatment she just needed rest. You both do. You're exceptionally lucky to be alive," her voice faded off uncomfortably.

I stared at her. That wasn't really something I wanted to hear right now.

She cleared her throat and tried again. "So Birch's son said you saved its life! That's something to be proud of out of all this, right?"

"Clayton?"

"The, uh—the boy who brought you in with the Ludicolo?" She clarified, before realizing I wouldn't have been conscious during whatever she was referring to. "Blonde?" She added quickly.

I nodded.

"Then yes, him," she perked up. "He said your little pup helped him find you, then ran off and brought back the Ludicolo to carry you down the mountain. They walked all the way here. I'd say luck was on your side, in that weather. You must have something special due in your future."

I coughed, feeling a feeble smile growing at the irony of it all. Something special? Yes, missing my Trainer registration was certainly a blessing in disguise. I couldn't wait for the next special thing to come along.

"I'm sure," I said.

"The whole thing was pretty impressive, really. You were famous on the news there for a while. Oh! Did you see?" She moved to a corner of the room I wasn't yet flexible enough to see, then popped back into my vision range with a giant card and bundle of sagging balloons.

My breath caught when I saw the card.

**"GET WELL SOON - FROM EMERALD CLASS '15" **All my classmates had signed, expressing sympathies and offering motivation, asking me to save them a battle when I was up and running. Some listed their Match Call numbers from their new Trainer ID cards. They didn't understand that I wouldn't have a card of my own to reciprocate.

While I was happy they hadn't fully forgotten me, the reminder of how behind I was still made me ache. I didn't have much time to brood, however, when I heard footsteps running down the hospital hall.

"Hadlee?" my mother's voice screeched, cracking into tears. She swooped into the room, beedrill-lining over to grab me into a painfully tight hug. "Oh thank Jirachi. Oh thank you."

My eyes started to well up again at the physical contact. The Zigzagoon let out a little warning growl at my mother, but otherwise let it happen.

"I was so afraid! They said that you wouldn't—that you might not—" she suddenly sobbed. "I'm just so grateful. I'm never going down to that cafeteria again!" she let out a pathetic laugh between tears, and kissed my forehead, petting my cheek. "How long have you been awake? How do you feel, are you okay? Can you look at me?"

"Mom," I choked out, struggling to take a breath without my throat catching, "I missed—I missed Leaving Day!" My voice broke mid-sentence and I finally started to cry. It just sounded so hopeless. I had finally acknowledged the reality of the situation out loud. It was real now.

"Oh, I know honey," she rubbed my back. "I know. We'll figure it out. It's gonna be okay."

-.-.-

It was another hour before my father was able to arrive. He had been sleeping at the Petalburg Gym the last two days, repairing the damage from a series of severe lightning storms. My mother assured me all my classmates had made it through town before they'd hit, but I still got anxious thinking about it.

"I'm glad you're awake, Lee. You're a strong girl," my father finally said, pulling up a chair to the bedside to pat my arm. His Linoone hopped up onto the bed moments later, curling up into a ball to watch the Zigzagoon from the corner of its eye.

He cleared his throat. "I brought Shirley for your Zigzagoon. Maybe they can learn from one another."

Shirley snorted and flicked her tail.

"Or maybe just your Zigzagoon from Shirley," he corrected, smiling at his Pokémon's attitude. The Zigzagoon squirmed out of my arms, cautiously edging toward its evolved form. Shirley ignored it.

I then realized why no one had made an effort to remove my Pokémon. No one had asked him to return his either—though to be fair he didn't even have out his biggest ones—because he was a Gym leader. Gym families had a little wiggle room with the law.

I don't know why it hadn't occurred to me sooner, but there it was right in front of me. I wondered what else my father had the power to do.

Shirley stretched out a leg, casually showing off her long claws to the younger Pokémon. I frowned.

"Is that blood on her paw?" I asked. Shirley's eyes popped open, and she retracted all her feet underneath her. My father shifted uncomfortably.

"It's probably just mud," he said, shifty. "She's been doing some digging...training."

I turned to my mother. She avoided eye contact, reaching out to give Shirley a little scratch. I looked back at my father. They were clearly choosing to ignore the Donphan in the room.

"Okay..." I ventured.

"We should give them both a bath!" My mother chirped, suddenly perky. Shirley hopped up, wiggling over to her, excited. The Zigzagoon flipped around to look at me, asking for permission.

"Yes!" I said, a little too quickly. The sooner that crusty mud was gone forever, the better. The Zigzagoon turned to cautiously follow suit, creeping over to my mother, deciding if she could be trusted.

My father helped me gingerly out of bed. Another wave of dizziness overtook me, and it hurt furiously to put weight on my legs again, but we managed to get me over to the bathroom.

...And that's how I ended up sitting, completely out of breath, on a toilet lid watching my parents wash two fussy Pokémon in a hospital sink.

* * *

><p><em>Note: The next few chapters will explore Clayton during the time Hadlee was unconscious. Get ready.<em>


	3. Chapter 3 - Clayton

**CHAPTER 3 - CLAYTON**

_SIX DAYS EARLIER..._

Clayton felt sick about the whole thing.

It's not that he thought they were indestructible—of course not, no one was—but from the moment he and Hadlee had met, everything had just seemed more obtainable. He'd never met anyone as well-researched nor as adamantly determined about Pokémon training as he was, and once the two recognized their mutual motivation, they'd become fast friends. They'd stayed up later, studied harder, and planned more seriously for their upcoming journey than the rest of the class combined. They'd even sneaked off into the tall grass once, to watch a pack of wild Poochyena fight amongst themselves for an alpha dog, all for the sake of applying it to their own battle strategies. It was on their way (running) back into town that afternoon, that same pack of angry Poochyena on their heels, that he and she had officially decided to get at least their first four badges together.

And the fact that that wasn't going to happen anymore just made him sicker.

Clayton sighed, nervously tapping his foot in the Oldale Hospital waiting room, trying to avoid the creepy, concerned eyes of the nearby Ludicolo. He earned a temporary reprieve when Mr. Barren finally arrived and returned the Pokémon.

"All the rest of the class is home safe. Your father's on his way to come get you," he informed, out of breath, sliding into the seat next to Clayton. "I'm uh, I'm sorry about the way things happened."

"Thanks," Clayton mumbled, sparing a glance toward the teacher. He realized it was the first time he'd seen him not smiling...and that was more worrying than he wanted to admit.

They sat in silence for another few minutes, solemn and not knowing what to say to one another. It was times like these that Clayton wished he had his starter already. A friend to comfort and distract him.

A Chansey suddenly hopped over, popping him out of his trance. "Chan!"

They followed the employee Pokémon through the hospital halls to Hadlee's room—where her anxious father blocked the doorway.

Norman and his Spinda stepped forward, yanking Clayton's shirt toward the wall. Clayton startled, taken aback at the gym leader's sudden aggression. He hadn't even known Hadlee's parents were there yet.

"You wanna tell me why you led my daughter out into the forest alone?" Norman asked, volume rising dangerously.

"Norman!" his wife hissed from inside the room, scolding. He ignored her.

"Why the hell weren't you two with the group?" he demanded, stepping closer to Clayton. "What'd you think was gonna happen?"

Mr. Barren jumped between them. "Hey!" He barked. "_Hey! _What do you think you're doing? He is a _child_. Back off. And put your Pokémon away; we're in a dang hospital for Arceus' sake," he spat, matching Norman's tone.

Norman glared back for a moment, then returned the Spinda.

"Go inside," Mr. Barren gestured to Clayton. He obeyed. The two adults walked farther down the hall, talking in fierce, hushed tones.

Clayton found himself at the foot of a hospital bed, feeling like an intruder next to an unconscious Hadlee and her mother. He was only mildly surprised to see the tiny Zigzagoon they'd saved still in bed next to her, tail protectively over her leg.

The woman sighed, "We know it's not your fault. It's okay."

"Thanks, but...I feel like it is."

"She's a little adventurer, I'm not blind to it. I know it couldn't have been only _you_ wanting to explore on your own. Lee doesn't do anything she doesn't want to," she said, offering a meek smile. Clayton hesitantly smiled back.

Hadlee looked terrible. She had a thin row of stitches across her forehead, her hair was still a muddy mess, and her right arm was in a bright pink cast. "Do you have a pen?" Clayton asked abruptly.

"I think so," Mrs. Laurel replied, digging through her purse to pull out a ballpoint. Clayton took it and walked over to write on the cast.

**I'm sorry for everything. Don't forget about our badges when you wake up. - Clayton**

He couldn't think of anything more to say, and handed the pen back. "She's gonna wake up right? Soon?"

"Sure she will," the woman replied, sniffing. "She'll be fine."

Clayton's stomach dropped, unable to ignore the poorly masked hopelessness in her words. He forced on a polite smile, but her eyes had already clouded over, staring at her daughter as though from a mile away. She knew something he clearly wasn't privy to, and for a moment he was inclined to ask. Footsteps down the hall broke the moment, however.

"Norman will be away at the gym tomorrow if you want to visit again," the woman murmured, composing herself just before her husband and Mr. Barren walked back into the room. Norman didn't look any less angry, but it at least didn't seem to be directed at Clayton anymore.

"Your father's here," Mr. Barren said, holding an arm out. Clayton nodded and they left the room quickly.

-.-.-

The next day Clayton's parents refused to let him get off track. The graduation ceremony was at 5:00pm, and all his other classmates were spending the morning stocking up on final supplies before their next step: Leaving Day. Professor Birch and his mother carted him around the stores, making sure he had a cushy sleeping bag, item capsules for clothes and shoes, non-perishable food and whatever else they worried he needed. They even splurged and got him a Rare Candy, just to up the excitement of it all, but Clayton's heart wasn't in it. At 3:00pm, they finally gave up and took him back to the hospital.

They spent an hour with him, expressing sympathies to Mrs. Laurel outside of the room to give him some quiet time to sit alone with Hadlee. He didn't cry, but he got a little close. It seemed he was the only one the Zigzagoon didn't growl at.

"You take good care of her. Promise me," he whispered to it. It nodded, understanding. "Okay," Clayton stood with a last deep breath, "Thank you."

And with that, it was time for graduation.

Clayton sat sullenly in Littleroot's forest green graduation gown, fiddling with the Honor Roll Alakazam charm hanging off his cap's tassel. He was alphabetically seated between Sara Berber and Erik Cerk, thankfully one of which he was pretty good friends with. The other, however, the two boys couldn't help but roll their eyes at.

"I am _so_ beyond excited. Like, you don't understand," Sara said forcefully. Clayton and Erik exchanged glances.

Erik snorted, imitating her voice. "Is it because your starter, like, is gonna be, like _so_ super cute?"

"Oh my gosh, _so _cute," She laughed, playing along. "But also 'cause I'm gonna school you when we battle tomorrow. So get ready to lose."

"Sara we're literally both getting Torchics. I don't think _you_ understand what you're saying."

"Whatever; mine's still gonna be better," she crossed her legs and turned away from them, chatting excitedly with the girl on the other side.

"I hope to Arceus my Torchic's bigger. I'm gonna crush her," Erik whispered, but after a pause realized Clayton wasn't listening. "Hey look, I'm sorry about Hadlee and everything, but you gotta get your head back."

"We made a pact we'd travel together," Clayton said, straight-faced.

"Well...just come with me and Allen, then. It's not a big deal."

"No, I mean we literally planned it. We mapped it out day-to-day and everything."

Erik sighed. "Then do it for your starter. It deserves a trainer, not some stranger in mourning. She can catch up when she's ready."

"Look, I just wanna wait a day or two!" Clayton snapped. Erik shifted in his seat, quiet.

After a minute, he nodded. "Alright."

"What?"

"Okay. You, me and Allen are gonna wait for her. But only for one day. One," Erik said, a supportive smile growing. They slapped hands together and laughed. "But that means we're gonna prank everyone else tomorrow morning—you know that, right?"

Clayton grinned, "Obviously."

His spirits raised, the rest of the ceremony sped past. Students came up to the stage to accept their Certificate, new pokédex, blank Trainer card and gold Littleroot Trainer pin. After the last graduate clomped back down to their seat, Mr. Barren came to the podium and a hush fell across the crowd and parents, knowing the ceremony was coming to an end.

"Thank you," he began, voice echoing through the microphone. "Students, it has been a true honor to help you get where you are today. I am personally proud of each and every one of you, and though not everyone is with us today in body—" He paused, swallowing. "Just know that you are all here together in spirit and will continue to be throughout your Pokémon journeys.

"In your future, you will travel far and wide and may feel alone; you will encounter hardships that will feel as if they've broken you; you will find emotional hurdles that seem insurmountable. But take refuge in your golden pin and know, with pride, that through that, your Littleroot brothers and sisters are with you always. Do not forget where you started, but take it with you and grow strong and wise and discover yourselves. You're beginning a rite of passage and we all wish you the best of luck.

"Now comes the time for the most important part of your journey's beginning: the Trainer's Pledge. Will all students please rise, raise your right hand and repeat after me the following."

The class of trainers-to-be stood eagerly, the only sound the creaking of chairs and hushed breath. Clayton spared a look over his shoulder, to see the entire crowd of parents standing up behind them also, out of respect. A kind of calm pride rose up inside him, and he turned back to the speaker standing a little straighter. He'd waited his whole life for the right to recite these words, and after he finished saying them..._he would be a Trainer._

"I hereby pledge," Mr. Barren began, and a chorus of voices echoed him, loud and strong. "That I understand and respect the responsibility placed upon me. To become a Pokémon Trainer is an honor, and I shall not tarnish nor take for granted my title, nor lead my team astray for selfish means, nor betray myself or my region with my newly granted power. I will strive for excellence and self-worth, shepherding my team to victory and growth, living by the four values: Balance, Trust, Respect, Determination. I hereby abide by the Trainer's Pledge."

"I hereby abide by the Trainer's Pledge," Clayton finished repeating, a smile growing on his lips.

An avalanche of cheers and screaming began and caps were thrown, pictures were taken and Clayton finally let himself enjoy it. The after-dinner was full of excited chatter and talks of the future. Mr. Barren even brought out a giant card for the class to sign for Hadlee.

And before the night was over, Clayton, Erik and Allen had a devious plan formed.

-.-.-

**_BURR BUURRR BUUURRRR~_**

Clayton jolted awake, quickly slapping his new pokédex alarm off before the rest of his family could hear. He threw on his clothes and tiptoed out of the house, loaf of bread in hand, as a light rainfall tittered down outside in the weak dawn sunlight.

The three boys met at the edge of town, creeping as far down Route 101 as they safely could, and then began ripping off little crumbs of bread, meat and lettuce. They scattered it everywhere, in the grass, along the path, between the trees, leading their way back into town.

When they were finished, the whole ground at the start of the path was littered with a light snow of food. They all high-fived and ran back to their houses, sneaking back in before the day started.

-.-.-

Clayton fidgeted with the gold trainer pin on his shirt, feeling silly and out of place among the fully outfitted soon-to-be trainers around him. Everyone had found a way to proudly broadcast their Littleroot beginnings, whether it be pinned to their backpack straps, as a necklace or bracelet, or even glued onto their belt buckle. It was surreal to glance around at all his classmates who looked, for the first time, like serious trainers. Hiking boots, jackets, full camping gear, cleverly compressed luggage...he imagined this would be what a Pokémon Center would feel like out on the road. It was hard to suppress the bubble of excitement that grew in his chest at that thought.

He edged over to Erik and Allen, similarly dressed down to make it clear that they wouldn't be joining the departing group that day.

"Alright," shouted Professor Birch, and the crowd anxiously quieted down and pushed over to the metal table on which he stood.

The Pokémon Lab wasn't exactly equipped to house a speaker's podium full-time, especially when the Starter Ceremony was only once a year and space was cramped already as it was, so they'd had to make do. The lab had at least been decorated a little to look more like a special event. Clayton couldn't help but feel some pride for his father, with the way the other classmates were looking up to him.

"Calm down. Now...who's excited to receive their starter?"

The crowd whooped again, clapping and hollering in support. Birch laughed, enjoying the attention momentarily before resuming an authoritative face. "Okay, okay, quiet down for real this time. Now this is going to be a very organized, controlled ceremony..."

A few giggles were heard in the room.

"I mean it now," he scolded. "We know exactly which Pokémon each of you has signed up for, and you will be checked off a list at the door to make sure of it, so no funny business! Now if you signed up for a Torchic-"

The crowd cheered again, Sara among them. Shouts were heard of "Whoo, Torchic!" "Fire all the way!" and "Burnin' hot, baby!"

Birch looked flustered, but continued in a louder voice. "If you—if you signed up for Torchic please go to the right side of the room. Mudkip at the left side, and Treecko in the center. Do not crowd the pokéballs and no releasing any Pokémon in the lab! I repeat—no Pokémon in the lab!"

Graduates had stopped listening, Clayton among them, already moving to shove their way to the front of their area. The three display domes were the center of attention, with mounds of pokéballs inside, protected by a glass lid. As the kids got closer, the three lids whooshed mechanically upward and grabby-hands shoved their way in to pluck out pokéballs before the domes had even finished cranking open.

The room roared with cheers, trainers sprinting over to the terrified lab assistants to check their name off the list, like a herd of Doduo, pokéballs in hand. Outside, spontaneous battles broke out everywhere, people climbing over one another, weaving in between the attacks of others to find their own open spot of ground. It was a mess of dangerous disorganization, but every face was smiling.

Clayton sheltered his own unopened pokéball in his hands, hanging back at the edge of the crowd to watch the others get to know their Pokémon. It was all he could do to resist releasing his new Treecko, but he owed it to Hadlee to wait. She would be his first battle, and they'd meet their new Pokémon at the same time just like they'd planned. He couldn't go back on their promise now, when it counted the most, especially after all that'd happened.

He swallowed hard and pushed the ball into a loop on his belt, desperately distracting himself by watching the other battles. He cheered on Erik and Allen, watching their Torchic and Mudkip each gain a level and receive their names. After a while, it wasn't hard to be happy for them. The mood was contagious.

At 9am, all Pokémon had been healed and returned to their trainers' bags and last goodbyes with parents began. The doubly large group of families and trainers began moving toward the mouth of Route 101..._and that was when the screaming began._

Clayton and Allen caught eyes across the crowd and ran up next to Erik. They exchanged glances, jogging up ahead to watch their prank come to fruition.

They had no idea what a horrible mistake they'd made.


	4. Chapter 4 - When it all Crumbles

**CHAPTER 4 - WHEN IT ALL CRUMBLES **[Clayton]

It was chaos.

Dozens of wild Pokémon had flooded into town from Route 101, viciously snarling at the trainers. A pack of Poochyena moved in from the tree line, stalking in circles, territorial of the food. A cacophony of Wingull wings waved in the air, pecking the area and cawing at any who got close. Wurmple flailed about in the dirt and thrashed around their horns to protect themselves.

And at the mouth of it all, beginning trainers stood terrified of their first two-on-one battles.

The three boys looked on in horror. It was out of control.

"Tony, go!" Erik shouted, releasing his Torchic and sprinting into the fray. Tony scrabbled around, scratching at four Wingull who immediately mobbed him.

"Maisie!" Allen tossed down his Mudkip, shouting encouragement as it flung little globs of mud at the bird's wings.

Attack shouts rang out all over, mixing with the frantic hollering of trainers watching a losing battle. The young Pokémon struggled to defend themselves from their feral counterparts, desperately fighting as the horde overtook them. Parents scattered in all directions, running to retrieve their own Pokémon from their homes, or to take shelter in the lab.

Clayton breathed hard, panicking as he looked out at the sea of animals that blocked their way into the wild grass. There was no hope unless they all helped.

He had to. He had no choice.

"Treecko, release!"

A flash of red light solidified before him, and there stood a red and green lizard, posing proudly for its new trainer. The Treecko's head suddenly cocked, and it whipped around at the noise behind it—and startled backward at the scene. It looked back at Clayton, insistent and confused.

"Hi! I'm sorry!" Clayton said, fumbling to grab up the ball from the ground and notch it into the input slot on his pokédex. Treecko's information popped up onto the screen, syncing with his trainer card. Clayton spoke as he typed. "I know you weren't expecting it to start like this! Uh—I'm Clayton, your trainer, and I love you and I'm naming you Tucker—I'll explain later but I'm sorry we have to fight!"

Tucker narrowed his eyes for a moment and then nodded. It turned around, skittering forward to leap onto a Poochyena and dig in with its hook claws, pounding mercilessly at its face with his tail. The dark type gnashed upward, unable to reach the attacker on its back.

"Keep going, Tucker! Almost there!" Clayton urged, panic bubbling in his stomach. Wild battles weren't like trainer battles; there was no taking turns or fair play. It was vicious and hard to watch. He could barely breathe.

"_No!_" Someone screamed, and Clayton turned to see a classmate's Mudkip faint—but the wild Pokémon kept attacking it. Another trainer's Pokémon jumped in to defend the unconscious body, but the trainers were losing, no doubt about it. He had never seen wild Pokémon act like this, never seen them gang up on an unconscious animal before. It was horrible.

A red light flashed out of the corner of his eye. He looked, as a rabid Seedot dissolved and leeched into a pokéball—thrown by his father.

"Catch them! Here! Clear a path!" Professor Birch shouted, tossing empty pokéballs to trainers all over from a tub he'd ran back and retrieved from the lab. Red and white balls flew over the battlefield like rain, sucking animals inside.

"Keep fighting! You're gonna be okay!" Clayton cried out, helpless at watching his Treecko take on a Wingull, the fainted Poochyena body nearby. "C'mon!"

The area was alight with white flashes where certain animals broke out of the balls, uncaptured. But gradually, more and more locked balls wiggled on the ground all over, angry captives inside.

Clayton turned to catch a pokéball as it was thrown to him, and he immediately flung it back at the battlefield, aiming for a particularly aggressive Poochyenea nearby. The animal dissolved into red light and disappeared into the ball. But the ball teetered, and wiggled—and with a bright flash popped open again, the snarling Poochyena back in place...with its sights now on Clayton.

"Tucker!" Clayton shouted, panic rising as the dog sprung toward him, sailing through the air to latch its teeth onto his forearm. He screamed at the sudden pain, pushing at the animal to release when its body suddenly jerked to the side, teeth ripping free of the boy's skin, and it rolled across the field—Tucker atop it. The two floundered around, screeching, battling until Tucker was flipped onto his belly...and the dark type bit in. Tucker screeched, writhing, helpless.

"No!" Clayton shrieked, sprinting over, fear mounting as he watched the Poochyena's claw rake across Tucker's face—then the dog's body flung across the field after he kicked its stomach as hard as he could.

He knelt to scoop up the Treecko, tears streaming down his face and ran away back into Littleroot, hunkering down behind a building. He trembled all over, gingerly setting the Pokémon down in the dirt.

"You're okay," he choked out, trying to steady his voice. "You're okay, please, you're gonna be okay!"

He fumbled for his bag, yanking it around to the front to feel around inside with shaky hands. He ripped out a purple spritz bottle and immediately went to work spraying Potion all over the wounds. The Treecko trembled, eyes half closed.

"Just relax. It's alright!" He said, but the red wasn't decreasing. He sprayed more. It wasn't helping. "Help! Dad!" He screamed loudly, hoping he could be heard. He sobbed. The red wouldn't stop coming. "_Dad!_"

"Return it!" A voice demanded nearby, and Clayton looked up to see a male lab aide he'd met before, sliding down onto the ground next to the Pokémon. "It'll be put into stasis inside the ball. It can hold on inside until you can get it to a PokéCenter. Go! Now! Return it!"

"Okay!" Clayton choked out, fumbling to get the ball from his belt and aim it at the Pokémon. "I'm sorry," he said, as the beam gulped the animal into a safe place.

Then there was nothing but red left on the grass before him. Clayton shook all over, clutching the locked pokéball close.

"Come on. We gotta get you bandaged. Right now."

He couldn't move.

He couldn't feel the man's grip around his shoulders, pulling him up, guiding him back to the lab. He couldn't feel the blood streaming down his forearm. He wouldn't; he refused.

But he did see the crowd at Route 101, as he passed an opening in between buildings. He did see a parent's Vulpix spouting fire down on all the wild Pokémon, clearing a path to Oldale by felling bodies. He did see his crying classmates, clutching armfuls of occupied pokéballs, unsure what to do with them.

He did see his future crumbling before him.

-.-.-

"I just can't even look at you right now," Professor Birch said softly.

Clayton stayed silent, numbly staring at the white waiting room wall. He felt nothing but a deep ache in his chest. Guilt had stolen his words. He couldn't think, only one word repeating on his mind: _Tucker, Tucker, Tucker._

He had gotten the pokéball to the nurse. The nurse had taken it to the back room. And later, the nurse would return to tell him everything was fine. That was how these things worked.

It didn't matter that six hours had passed. It didn't, because that was how these things worked. He just had to keep thinking like that.

Any minute now, the nurse would return to tell him everything was fine.

"I am so..." His father's voice faded off. Birch's head was in his hands. He looked exhausted. Greying. For a moment, only the hum of the PokéCenter lights could be heard.

"Confused with you," he finished faintly.

After all the bedlam at Littleroot's town edges that morning, the lab aides and parents had banded together to get everyone to Oldale. They'd rushed into the hospital, turning over all pokéballs for inspection and booking all new trainers for a one night stay at the PokéCenter.

A mandatory group meeting had been held in the dining hall to regroup and discuss what'd happened, several parents demanding to know how it all started. But the kids stayed silent. Everyone was too traumatized, too exhausted to yell about it or investigate, and after a few hours the trainers were ordered to their rooms and the parents were sent home.

It seemed all that was left to do was wait, hopeful that each Pokémon would be returned to its trainer, healed. But then Allen had stepped forward to confess.

He'd pulled a lab aide aside, teary-eyed, and begged him to understand that they hadn't meant any harm. He'd incriminated Erik and Clayton, laying everything out on the table...and the aide had gone straight to Professor Birch.

Clayton would never forget the look in his father's eyes when he found out. Betrayal. Anger. Heartbreak.

Birch had made a point to meet with the other two boys first, taking them aside for a stern talking to, leaving them fighting tears before they returned to the rest of the group. And then he'd grabbed his son's arm, yanked him into a side room, and yelled until it was clear it wasn't making a difference.

And now here they sat, quiet, strained in a back room.

But it was all just a dull noise now. Nothing shook him anymore. _Tucker, Tucker, Tucker..._

* * *

><p><em>Note: For those trying to keep track, we are in the second day of Hadlee's unconsciousness.<em>


	5. Chapter 5 - Building Blocks

**CHAPTER 5 - BUILDING BLOCKS **[Clayton]

"I feel like the only way to get through to you...is to cut you off." Professor Birch stared at his son, waiting for a reaction. None came. He sighed heavily.

"That means no help. No contact. No sending you items or transferring you money. Nothing. If after years of growing up around lab Pokémon and my research into making training easier and safer on the animals, _this_ is how you choose to act...then I just don't understand. I can't endorse it."

Clayton wiggled his knee around, struggling to stay calm. Somewhere in him he knew he should be shocked, that his father's words should mean something—but he just didn't have the capacity for it. If Tucker was alright, he'd find a way to endure whatever punishment was thought up. Nothing else mattered.

Any second now. He just had to keep waiting.

"I want you to tell me _why_. It's so contrary to how we raised you—is it Hadlee? Is that why you're acting out? Were you _trying _to sabotage Leaving Day? I just—" Birch suddenly shook his head and went quiet. It was like talking to a brick wall.

A door hushed nearby and Clayton's mother entered the waiting room. She slid in next to her husband at the table, whispering in his ear, but Clayton could still hear her. Not that he was listening.

"All the Pokémon have been reported. We've gotten some calls about parents wanting to pull their kids out of the program. Chris handled it, but...there's some other things we need to talk about. The aides are waiting for you in the dining hall."

Birch flexed a hand in response.

She nodded and placed a hand on his back, supportive, before turning to Clayton. "So how are you doin', hun?"

Birch scoffed softly.

Clayton ignored them both, flipping his pokédex over and over in his hands anxiously. Soon he'd get the alert to come to the front counter to retrieve his pokéball. He was sure of it. He could feel it.

"So about as good as the rest of us," she sighed at the nonresponse, and clasped her hands together. "Alright. We're all gonna need to have a talk. And I'm going to need everyone to look at me."

Seconds passed in silence. No one moved.

She waited patiently.

"Aaron."

"What?" Birch looked up.

"I said everyone."

"Fine. Good luck," he gestured across the table. "He's pretending to ignore us."

"Yes I see that, honey, but perhaps he's not going to respond to yelling at this point."

"Oh, okay. I'll just not scold my son. You're right. Take the reins."

"I think what we both need to understand," Mrs. Birch tried to keep her voice calm, "is that he may be a bit traumatized right now—"

"And why do you think he's traumatized, Martha? Whose fault could that be?"

"Look; if we could just step back for a moment, take the emotion out of it and see the situation as it is—"

"I'm being emotional?"

"I—we all are."

"_I'm_ being too emotional over the fact that Pokémon have _died_ because of _our son?_"

"You keep your voice down," Mrs. Birch hissed. "He did _not_ need to know that."

"He needs to understand the consequences of his actions. He's a legal adult now—"

"That is not fair."

"Life isn't fair. Training isn't fair."

"And what would make it fair? Yelling some more?"

"No! I cut him off!"

"You did _what?_" Mrs. Birch said, tone rising dangerously.

**Clayton's pokédex beeped.** He startled, fumbling to open the front flap to view the screen:

_[Oldale Pokecenter Alerts: Your Pokémon is available for pick up. Please come to the front desk with your trainer card ready.]_

He leapt out of the chair, nearly tripping over himself on the way to the door. His father stood up in response.

"Hey! You don't get to walk away from this. Get back in here and sit down!"

"Let him," Mrs. Birch said, a warning hand on her husband's chest.

And Clayton sprinted out of the room.

-.-.-

"Is he okay?" Clayton strangled out, hands clenching either side of the PokéCenter front desk.

"Trainer Identification, please," the nurse said, exhausted. She looked truly tired, her hair mussed from its normally tight bun underneath a uniform cap.

"Here," he slapped it onto the counter. "Can you just—tell me if he's okay?"

She sighed, swiping the card and glancing at a nearby screen to confirm his info before handing it back.

He shoved it in his bag, worried at her expression. "What is it?"

"Your Treecko's alive—" she said.

He let out a breath of air, feeling like his knees might buckle with relief. But it was premature.

"—he just got out of surgery."

"What? What surgery?" His chest clenched. Didn't they have to ask his permission for things like that? He vaguely remembered signing some paperwork when he'd first handed over the ball, but...

He'd never forgive himself if that was some sort of medical release he'd been too shaken to read properly.

"Hello?" He demanded.

"Just hold on," the woman clacked around on the computer. It felt like an eternity before she spoke again.

"Alright. You're going to need to fill this prescription at the counter over there; directions will be on the bottle. It should be enough to get you to Rustboro, but I recommend you book a follow-up appointment once you get there," she slid a paper over to him.

"Until then, you're going to need to change the bandages twice a day for four days. You can buy them at any PokéMart. The stitches will dissolve on their own. I've sent all the information to your Trainermail, make sure to read it."

Clayton felt his pokédex buzz in response.

"With regards to surgery," she shifted her weight, avoiding eye contact. Clayton braced himself. "We did all we could, but the facial scratch was deep enough that we ran out of options. We removed his right eye."

No. He had to have heard wrong. Tucker had both eyes. Tucker would always have both eyes. He'd only battled one time. Everything was supposed to be fine.

It felt like the room was spinning.

"There are also stitches up along his abdomen, but those should be fine in about two days. They were fairly clean wounds. You were lucky," she set Tucker's pokéball casually on the counter. Clayton reached out to steady it, terrified it might roll off the edge, as though that might further harm the animal. The nurse continued.

"The good news is there's a strong chance that he'll regain sight with evolution. Reptiles especially are known for their ability to regenerate complex tissues. Now he can't battle yet, but see about getting him some experience once he's off of the pain medication. The sooner he evolves the better. Okay?"

"Yeah," he nodded, gulping. "Okay."

Clayton gingerly scooped up the ball and paper, holding them close.

"He can't heal in stasis so keep him out of his ball whenever possible. Minimal physical exertion. _No battling._"

He nodded again, ears ringing. Why would anyone make their animal battle right out of surgery like that? The fact that she had to remind him twice meant other trainers had to have tried before. He didn't want to think about it. So instead, he started toward the prescription counter, trying to ignore the fact that his hands were shaking.

"Oh! One more thing," the nurse called.

Clayton spun back around, numb.

"Could, uh—" she lowered her voice. "Could you let the professor know the report is ready? On the wild Pokémon? Their health average is…something he needs to see immediately. _Before_ they get released again."

The thought of looking at or talking to his father again made him nauseous. Clayton's voice came out sounding nastier than intended.

"He's having a meeting with the lab aides soon in the dining hall. You should tell him yourself." And with that, he turned on a heel to fill the prescription, and go up to his room.

He didn't even notice the dirty looks his classmates gave him as he passed. He didn't care.

-.-.-

Clayton was halfway up the stairs to the PokéCenter upper level when it occurred to him that he had no idea what his room number was. He flipped his pokédex open and clicked on the room reservations app.

He briefly wondered who his roommates might be, subconsciously rolling Tucker's bottle of pills around in his free hand while the page loaded. No doubt they'd have something nasty to say to him when he walked in. At this point, though, anything was better than spending the night at home with his parents.

The information popped up with a flourish and he breathed a sigh of relief. He was booked along with everyone else, under the group title 'Littleroot Class,' but as he scrolled down saw there was no roommate listed. And what was more: he had a corner room, one of the largest suite types.

He was thankful enough not to question it, and ambled up to his room to fling on the lights, shut the door, and sit on the floor to release Tucker.

It took several minutes to build up the courage to push the release button on the ball. Finally he did it, holding his breath as the animal materialized in front of him…and his heart dropped once he saw.

Tucker laid unmoving, curled into himself, his one remaining eye squeezed shut in pain. Bandages were wrapped around his midsection, half his face covered in a white cloth eyepatch. The smell of antiseptics wafted throughout the room.

For a horrible second, Clayton wondered if his starter was even alive—until his eyes caught the small, almost imperceptible rising and falling of lungs. It looked so fragile. He was terrified to even touch it.

A painful knot began to rise in his throat…he'd done this. He'd sent a young Pokémon with no battling experience into a free for all of his own creation. He'd caused it to lose half its vision. He would never forgive himself.

The only thing that dead eye had ever seen was Clayton's biggest mistake. And now it was in a trash can somewhere, cut out, never to see again.

If only he'd kicked that Poochyena off a second sooner.

He took a deep breath and swallowed the pain. He felt defiant, angry. Something had to be done.

"This will never happen again, Tucker. Never," he swallowed again, forcing the sadness down. "I am going to become the Trainer you deserve. Whatever it takes. I promise you. We will recover from this."

Tucker showed no awareness of the speech.

Clayton stood up, a plan forming in his head—when he spotted something in the corner of the room he hadn't noticed before. A large backpack, stuffed full to the zipper, a sleeping bag rolled atop it: his trainer gear.

His mother must have brought it from the house. A silent nudge, her way of saying 'get out while you can.'

He knew what he needed to do. He turned and left the room, locking the door behind him. Tucker could sleep for now.

Clayton had a mission to complete.


	6. Chapter 6 - New Hope

**CHAPTER 6 - NEW HOPE **[Clayton]

Clayton found Erik and Allen outside the PokéCenter, sitting on the edge of the concrete patio underneath the front entrance awning. The sun was beginning to set, pink and orange streaks cutting through the sky like fire. It was almost startling how quickly the day had passed.

He could hear them laughing, and as he approached he saw that both of their Pokémon were out and playing nearby, appearing to have made a full recovery. How lucky for them.

Tony was pompously ruffling what little down feathers he had, flinging off the little bits of stray mud that Maisie carelessly flung his direction, as she tried to burrow a hole in the wet earth next to him.

"Hey," he said, sitting down next to Erik and Allen.

"Hey, man."

"Hi."

A few moments passed, uncomfortable. No one wanted to address the obvious.

"It's kinda cold out from all the rain," Clayton offered.

"Yeah, a little. It's alright."

"Maisie doesn't seem to mind," Erik said, nodding toward Alan's Mudkip.

"Oh, no, she's in her element. She loves it. It's actually kinda gross," Alan said. They glanced toward the Mudkip who looked back at them lazily, scooping mud onto her rough skinned back with her tail. A large chunk slapped onto her nose and she closed her eyes, happy.

"Muuuuudkip."

"Chic!" Tony bolstered his feathers again, appalled at the other Pokémon. Erik snorted, and they all started laughing. Some of the awkward tension finally released.

Clayton just had to focus on ignoring the glaring absence of his own starter. He wished Tucker was there, healed like the others, performing antics of his own. His chest ached at the thought.

They watched the two Pokémon play for a few minutes, before Erik sighed and spoke up.

"Um, so...I had my dad drive up and bring us our stuff," he said, staring down at his feet. "And we're gonna leave in the morning…sorry."

Clayton let out a deep sigh. It was nice enough that they'd offered to stay behind and wait an extra day for Hadlee with him in the first place, let alone actually intended to follow through. He couldn't blame them for wanting to get out of town, especially after the way his dad had embarrassed them in front of everyone. Who knew what their own parents had said to them, too.

And when he really thought about it, he realized he felt the same. He wanted out. The words came from his mouth before he even thought about it.

"My pack's in my room at the center."

"Woah, really?" Erik perked up. "How?"

"I think my mom brought it. Sort of a subtle 'out you go.'"

"Wait, that's great! So you can come with us!" Erik blurted, but then caught himself. "I mean—well you are coming, right?"

"If you want to," Alan added, hopeful.

Clayton stared out at the horizon, jaw clenching. If he stayed behind, he'd be alone in a town that resented him, for who knew how many days until Hadlee woke up…and she, too, might hate him for what had happened.

It also donned on him that, after finding that bag in his room, he wasn't sure if he'd be allowed back home even if he wanted.

"Yeah," he said finally.

"Whoo!" Erik held out a fist. Clayton hesitated, then fist-bumped him. They let out an uneasy laugh.

"So, uh, where's your Pokémon?" Erik asked.

Clayton stifled a groan. It felt like he'd been punched in the chest. He sincerely didn't want to talk about it. But no, he'd promised Tucker that they'd get past it. He just had to grow up and handle it.

"Um, still in the…" Clayton motioned back toward the building. "He just got out of surgery."

"Tucker, right?" Alan said.

"…Yeah."

"What happened?"

Erik and Allen stared at Clayton expectantly. They had no idea the weight of their question. They weren't carrying the heavy guilt he was.

"Augh, um…" he buried his face in his hands. "He's…not alright. He got hurt pretty bad and has all these stitches and he, uh," he cleared his throat. "He had his eye taken out. He's only got one eye now."

He glanced up at his two friends and immediately regretted it. He couldn't stand their pitying expressions. He kept his eyes down and continued; he had to get it all out in the open. "So…that's kinda why I came out here. I need help with something."

"Yeah, sure," Erik said automatically.

"So…" Clayton could feel goosebumps begin to form. The temperature was dropping as the sun finished dipping below the horizon. Light faded by the second. "Tucker can't fight. For a while, at least, not until he heals and…gets used to his eye. Anyway, that means I have to catch something else in the meantime if I want to keep travelling. But I can't do that without a functioning battle p-"

"I'll do it," Alan interrupted. "Maisie can catch you something. She doesn't need a lot of light to see, supposedly. Deep sea creature and whatnot."

"Okay. Thanks," Clayton said, trying to assess whether it was shame or pity he was sensing in Alan's voice. Neither made him feel very good, but he needed help and there it was.

"Yeah! 'Course," Alan added.

"Alright." Erik leaned forward to pick up his Torchic. "Let's go, then."

They all got up silently and trudged into the weak light toward the dark forest. By the time they got there, they had to use their pokédex flash lights to see, but sparingly so as not to scare anything away.

Finally, Maisie paused and raised her tadpole tail, alert—and shot off into the darkness. They stopped, squinting after her, listening. Something squeaked, and they heard rustling around as the two Pokémon wrestled with one another, battling.

Clayton clenched his fists, ears straining. He couldn't tell what kind of Pokémon it was just from its guttural squeaks. He wasn't in a position to be choosy, he only hoped it wasn't a—

"Kip!"

"Okay, now! Throw the ball!" Alan said, shoving Clayton forward. He panicked, flinging the ball into the darkness, a flash of red lighting up the area…and then blackness again. The boys looked at each other, unsure, listening.

Silence…and then a soft scratching noise.

Clayton turned on his pokédex light and walked over, finding Maisie midway into burying the closed pokéball in the mud. Erik burst out laughing.

"Maisie, no, c'mon—" Alan fussed, embarrassed, shooing her away so Clayton could scoop it out, weighting it in his hands.

"It doesn't feel full."

"Moment of truth," Erik said, grabbing the ball to latch it into the input slot of Clayton's pokédex. Clayton swiped his trainer card and the screen lit up. The boys crowded around.

He audibly groaned with disappointment when he saw it.

The Pokémon was physically very similar to its cousin the Psyduck, but with a smaller bill, blue fur instead of yellow, and a much thinner, longer midsection. It would also be wet all the time, Clayton knew, because it formed symbiotic relationships with the local water plants, allowing algae and moss to grow slickly along its entire back. Often a lilypad plant would take root in its skin, growing a large leaf that sagged over its head like a ridiculous hat.

"Of all the things, it had to be that?" Clayton whined, shoving the screen at the other boys so they could see. It was awful, horrible, he'd wanted anything other than a—

"A Lotad? What's wrong with that?" Alan asked, handing the machine to Erik. Erik shrugged and handed it back to Clayton.

He sighed, crestfallen. "I'm just really not a fan of Ludicolos. Everything about them creeps me out. I don't know if I can train one."

"What?"

"Mr. Barren's wasn't creepy," Alan said.

"Yeah it was."

"No! It was always nice!" Alan shot back. Erik intervened.

"Whatever, just get over it. It's yours now. You're welcome." He scoffed and returned Tony, walking back toward the PokéCenter.

Alan huffed and picked up Maisie, following. "You did a good job, girl, don't listen to him," he mumbled.

"Thanks," Clayton begrudgingly shouted over his shoulder. "Goodnight!"

It wasn't a Ludicolo yet, at least. Two evolutions away. Maybe he could get rid of it by then.

What a horrible thought, he chided himself. He forced his eyes to look at the screen again. It was a female Lotad, and fairly strong for the area. Its vitals all looked good. He could have caught something weaker, like a Wurmple, and that might have been worse. No, nevermind—he would have preferred a Wurmple.

He growled and shifted his weight, staring at the screen, deciding. Tucker couldn't fight. He needed a replacement Pokémon, just until Tuck got better, and at least a Lotad conformed to his all-grass/bug team idea.

Crap.

It was now or never, before he lost the nerve. Maybe once he told it about that morning it wouldn't want to be with him anyway. He swiped his Trainer Card and typed in the first name that came to mind, then unlatched the ball and released the Pokemon onto the ground.

It appeared facing the wrong direction and startled, looking around in confusion.

Clayton coughed. It whipped around…and immediately skittered forward to rub its bill against his leg. He stepped back, grossed out.

"H-hi, stop it, sorry." He couldn't help but be disgusted. Its big Magikarp eyes looking up so lovingly at him, its six webbed feet with little claws sticking out, its tiny furry tail wiggling around...why did it bother him so much? And then the thought hit him: every time he looked at it, he saw Mr. Barren's Pokémon waddling in the rain, carrying an unconscious Hadlee, blood streaming from her forehead…

He shivered. The temperature was dropping still. He needed to snap out of it.

"Uh—I'm Clayton, your new trainer. I gave you the nickname 'Colby,' I hope that's okay. It was all I could think of."

"Lo!" It chirped and nodded.

"You're not my first Pokémon; I have a starter. His name's Tucker, he's a Treecko."

It stared back, silent.

"Um, he—well—okay, so here's the deal." Clayton launched into an impromptu speech, confessing everything. If finding out what a bad trainer he'd been that morning made her resent him, then he deserved it. He'd always planned for full honesty with his Pokémon from the start, and with everything else that'd gone on that day, here was as good a place as any to start redeeming himself.

"So if you hate me, that's okay. I would understand if you didn't want to train under me because of it. I can just release you. If that's what you want…up to you," he finished.

His friends could help him catch a new Pokémon in the morning, right? He had a few more pokéballs. They'd understand, right? Hopefully? He waited for a response awkwardly, picking at the bandage on his arm.

The Lotad shuffled its feet, staring off into space, thoughtful...or maybe that's just how its eyes looked, he didn't know.

Was he going to have to go through this process with all his Pokémon? Great, Arceaus. He probably would. How else would he explain Tucker's eye?

It finally looked up at him, resolute. "Tad."

"You wanna be released?" Clayton asked, guiltily hopeful.

"Lo! Lotad!" It shook its head, appalled. "Lo!" It walked forward to nuzzle him again.

Well, double crap.

"Okay," Clayton sighed, resisting the urge to kick it off of him. "Um…do you need food? We can run to the dining hall real fast before bed." His stomach grumbled. Perhaps it was he who wanted to go to the dining hall.

"Loooo!" It happily squealed, and skittered off toward the PokéCenter.

Clayton looped her pokéball back into his belt and followed, holding back a groan.

-.-.-

He had completely forgotten there was a meeting going on in the dining hall.

And they were shouting.

* * *

><p><em>Note: What do you think about Clayton's decision to leave without Hadlee? What would you have done?<em>


End file.
